


wanna blow the candles out (just to see if you glow in the dark)

by doctorkaitlyn



Series: tumblr fics & ficlets, part ii. [48]
Category: Buzzfeed: Worth It (Web Series)
Genre: Camping, Established Relationship, Fluff, Frottage, Hand Jobs, M/M, Tent Sex, Tumblr Prompt, mild jealousy
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-07-29
Updated: 2018-07-29
Packaged: 2019-06-18 09:20:26
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,589
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15482628
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/doctorkaitlyn/pseuds/doctorkaitlyn
Summary: The thing is, Andrew gets it. He gets why seemingly half of the people who work in the LA and New York offices are in love with Steven (or were at some point). He gets why people fawn over Steven and trip over their words and turn bright Valentine’s Day pink when they’re around him. Seeing as it only took a matter of weeks after they first met for him to get that way, it would be hypocritical if he didn’t get it.But getting it and beingusedto it are two totally separate concepts.Or: Andrew gets jealous (and then gets lucky) during the Great BuzzFeed Camping Trip of 2018.





	wanna blow the candles out (just to see if you glow in the dark)

**Author's Note:**

> written for an anonymous tumblr prompt, which asked for _some possessive & fluffy standrew?_ the fluff is definitely here (like always) but I ended up more going for jealousy than possessiveness. also, mild smut happened (I don't think it's quite explicit enough to warrant that rating, but let me know if you think otherwise). 
> 
> this also totally works for the prompt "kissing to stay quiet" from [this](http://banshee-cheekbones.tumblr.com/post/170288406393/tickatocka-some-fun-sex-tropes-laughing-during) list, which I am slowly making my way through. 
> 
> title from [The Hellcat Spangled Shalalala](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=dAlRXC19hmE) by Arctic Monkeys.

It’s not often that Andrew is disappointed that he was left out of a meeting, but he _really_ wishes that he could have been a fly on the wall in the conference room where the powers that be decided that a massive, office-wide camping trip would be a great way to facilitate some team building.

To be fair, once they've all arrived at the campground and set up their tents, much of the morning actually proceeds on track. They go through half a dozen different activities that have just enough of a BuzzFeed twist on them to keep them from being truly corporate in fashion, and while some are borderline cheesy or straight up dumb, others are, Andrew has to reluctantly admit, almost _fun_. 

But somewhere around four o’clock, the novelty seems to collectively wear off, and the drinking starts - surreptitiously at first, with a flask making its way through the crowd, and then openly - and within an hour, the last dregs of professionalism are swallowed up by the massive party that extends from the entrance gate all the way down to the shore of the small lake that the campsites surround. 

By the time the sun fully dips below the horizon, Andrew thinks he might be one of maybe two dozen people scattered across the campground who could claim to be (mostly) sober. Everywhere he looks, there’s a campfire throwing flickering light on the surrounding trees, and the air is rich with toasted marshmallows and hot dogs, melted chocolate and the faintly sour scent of weed. Between the overwhelmingly loud laughter, the wildly clashing music coming from half a dozen different spots and the occasional sound of glass breaking, he feels like he’s been transported back to one of the dozen or so keggers he attended back when he was at film school. 

Thankfully, if there’s one thing that sets the party apart from those keggers, it’s that the food is _way_ better. They were supposed to have a group dinner around six, but plans for that apparently went by the wayside when the party broke out. However, every campfire that he walks by has at least two portable coolers resting nearby, and as the hours tick by, Andrew samples a countless number of snacks, some more delicious than others, but all of which make up for the meal they missed out on. 

(Technically, he thinks that it could be argued that the presence of all the coolers and the willingness of everyone to share what’s in them proves that, even if the actual purpose of the trip got trampled on a few hours ago, they _already_ work well as a team. 

Or, at the very least, they’re all willing to share when they’re drunk, and really, is there much of a difference between the two concepts?)

It’s been at least an hour since he last saw Steven; they’d been hanging out with some of the Tasty crew when Jen popped up and dragged him away with a comment about how she needed him to settle a debate for her. Steven had glanced back over his shoulder and shrugged helplessly, and Andrew had just waved and went back to talking with Adam; if there’s one thing that he’s used to, it’s people pulling Steven away at any given moment, whether it’s for a video shoot or a meeting or a brainstorming session. 

(It’s not that he likes it – some days, he barely gets to see Steven at all, has to fight with the rest of the office to get a mere sliver of his attention – but he’s come to reluctantly accept it as part of both his job and their relationship.) 

He’s starting to get restless. Adam and Annie retired for the night half an hour ago, and while he’d run into Shane and Ryan a few minutes after that, their conversation had barely gotten started before Ryan abruptly stood up from his spot around the campfire, grabbed Shane and called back over his shoulder, “If the tents a-rockin’, don’t come a-knockin.” Shane had let out a long suffering sigh, but his cheeks had been pink under his scruff as he tripped after Ryan with a slight sway to his steps.

For a while, he aimlessly wanders from campfire to campfire, looking for someone else to talk to. He doesn’t have much luck - he runs into a few acquaintances, people he knows well enough to say hello to when they pass in the halls at work, but his actual friends are either missing in action or a little too drunk to have a decent conversation with. After he finishes his drink, he decides to head back to their campsite, which is down by the shore of the lake. He still hasn’t seen Steven, not even in passing, but Andrew wouldn’t be surprised if Steven was already back at their tent, ready to wind it down for the night; partying, particularly on this scale, generally isn’t his thing.

However, as he passes through a dark copse of trees surrounding one of the campfires, Andrew hears Steven’s bright laugh ring through the air. Peering through the treeline, he spots Steven sitting on one of the logs surrounding the blazing fire, engrossed in conversation with the girl sitting next to him, a girl whose name Andrew can’t remember but who he _thinks_ is one of the new interns. There’s an open, half-empty bag of marshmallows resting on the ground between them, and Steven is holding one in each of his wildly gesturing hands. They’re talking about a television show that Andrew hasn’t watched, and the intern seems to be just as enthusiastic about it as Steven; her own hands wave wildly around when she picks up where he left off, talking so fast that Andrew can barely comprehend what she’s saying. When Steven responds in kind, her face lights up in a dazzlingly bright smile before she pops another marshmallow in her mouth. 

Logically, Andrew knows that he doesn’t have anything to worry about - he trusts Steven more than anyone else in his life, wholly and fully. He knows that he can walk away and go back to his tent, and he won’t wake up in the morning to hear Steven’s name on the office grapevine, won’t have to worry about everyone whispering about his boyfriend cheating on him behind his back. He knows that Steven would never do that to him. 

But all the same, an unpleasantly warm feeling, one that’s definitely not brought on by the warmth of the night or the alcohol in his system and one that he’s all too familiar with, sparks in his chest.

The thing is, he gets it. He gets why seemingly half of the people who work in the LA and New York offices are in love with Steven (or were at some point). He gets why people fawn over Steven and trip over their words and turn bright Valentine’s Day pink when they’re around him. Seeing as it only took a matter of weeks after they first met for _him_ to get that way, it would be hypocritical if he _didn’t_ get it.

But getting it and being _used_ to it are two totally separate concepts.

That being said, it’s not Steven’s fault that Andrew isn’t used to it yet, and he doesn’t want to barge in and interrupt a conversation that Steven seems to be thoroughly enjoying just so he can attempt to quell the uncomfortable warmth in his chest. He also doesn’t want to wander back out into the party to try and find a distraction, so he veers left and picks his way through the trees to the tiny clearing where they’ve set up their tent. The light from the flickering fire barely reaches it, and the moon is hidden behind a thin skein of clouds, filling the clearing with pools of deep shadows, so he uses his phone as a flashlight for long enough to find his way into the tent, after which he flicks on the battery powered lamp resting in the corner and grabs his toothbrush out of his bag. 

Amazingly, he manages to make it back across the grounds to the bathroom without getting waylaid. Two of the stalls are being used for sex, so he brushes his teeth as fast as he can, trying all the while to block out the loud moans and creaking metal.

It doesn’t go very well.

On the way back, he ends up running into Niki, and they spend a few minutes talking about the first episode of season two of Eating Your Feed, which Adam has refused to tell them anything about, other than that they might hate him by the time they’re done filming it. By the time he heads back towards the tent and walks past the campfire, Steven is nowhere to be found, but the intern is still there, talking to Jen. While she seemed confident before, voice flying a mile a minute, now she’s stammering slightly, and there’s a flush high in her cheeks that seems a little too vivid to be from the fire.

The warmth in Andrew’s chest fades a bit at the sight of that, and he laughs at himself as he keeps walking.

When he reaches their tent, there’s a familiarly shaped shadow moving around inside, back lit by the lantern. Andrew slips inside just in time to see Steven pull an old, paint spattered t-shirt over his head. He’s wearing sweatpants too, and his damp hair is falling across his forehead. As Andrew watches, a stray droplet of water glides down the side of his face and drips off the hinge of his jaw.

“We must have just missed each other,” Steven says, nodding at Andrew’s toothbrush as he stretches out with a content sigh atop the small mountain of blankets and sleeping bags that they brought. It’s too warm to slide underneath even one of them, but at the very least, they’ll serve as some kind of barrier against the hard ground and the tree roots jutting out of it. “I tried to find you earlier, after Jen finally let go of me, but I kept getting distracted.”

“I know the feeling. I would have been back sooner, but Niki found me first.” With Steven stretched out and their bags lined neatly up against one wall, there isn’t a lot of room for Andrew to maneuver, and it takes a surprising amount of effort to pull his sweater off and get out of his jeans and shoes without accidentally kicking Steven or punching the wall of the tent. 

(It’s a good thing that he stopped drinking when he did, because he’s pretty sure that if he tried to do this while drunk, the entire tent would end up collapsed on top of them.)

After an inordinate amount of time and effort, once he’s stripped down to his boxers, he turns off the lantern and rolls onto his side to face Steven, who is little more than a pale smudge in the darkness. They’re close enough that he can feel the soft fabric of Steven’s sweatpants brushing against his shins, close enough that he barely has to extend an arm to drop one hand to span along the line of Steven’s waist. Even though it hasn’t been that long since they last touched, the simple brush of his palm against Steven’s skin is nothing less than grounding, and the last bits of jealousy still lingering in the depths of his chest crumble like paper thrown in a fire.

“I feel like I haven’t seen you in hours,” Steven says. The slippery fabric of the sleeping bag underneath them rustles as he slides closer and curves one hand around Andrew’s cheek. 

“That’s because you haven’t,” Andrew replies as he cranes his face up into Steven’s palm. Absently, he pushes the hem of Steven’s shirt up so he can skate his thumb over the soft skin stretched over the sharp line of his hip bone. “Did you have a good night?”

“Aside from eating _way_ too many marshmallows, yeah.” Steven’s breath hitches as Andrew traces along the waistband of his sweatpants. “I met one of the new interns. Her name’s Nora. I think you’d like her. She has a lot of really great ideas, and she’s really sweet.” 

“I saw her talking to Jen on my way back.” This time, it’s Andrew’s turn to forget how to breathe, just for a moment, as Steven tosses one of his long legs over Andrew’s. “Looked like she was crushing _hard_.” 

“Wouldn’t surprise me,” Steven laughs quietly. His thumb is carefully whisking back and forth along Andrew’s cheekbone, like he’s trying to memorize the exact curve of it. The touch makes warmth stir in Andrew’s stomach, and he slides his hand to splay wide at the dip of Steven’s spine and pulls him in even closer, until they’re chest to chest. 

For a few moments, they stay like that, pressed together, breathing falling into sync, so close that when Steven licks his lips, the tip of his tongue brushes against the corner of Andrew’s mouth. Under the mint of Steven’s toothpaste, Andrew can still smell toasted marshmallows, and the thought of licking that taste out of Steven’s mouth is what spurs him to close the few inches between them and press a soft kiss to Steven’s lips. Steven, beautifully responsive as always, slides his hand up into Andrew’s hair and shifts even closer, tucks his leg firmly around Andrew’s hip. When his tongue grazes Andrew’s bottom lip, firmer and more purposeful this time, Andrew meets it with his own as he wraps his hand tightly into the slightly rough fabric of Steven’s shirt.

It doesn’t stay there for long; when they separate to breathe, Steven pulls back, clambers up onto his knees, and comes dangerously close to hitting the roof of the tent as he pulls his shirt off and tosses it aside. Before he can stretch back out on his side, Andrew curls both of his hands around Steven’s waist and tugs him down between his splayed apart legs. Steven lets out a loud, shuddering breath when their hips meet, and Andrew shifts a hand up to the nape of his neck so he can pull Steven back down. 

“Gonna have to be quiet,” he murmurs; while there doesn’t seem to be much activity around their tent, there’s no telling when someone might stumble by, and even though Andrew knows that they aren’t the only ones getting up to this kind of thing (he pities whoever is unfortunate enough to be set up near Ryan and Shane), he still doesn’t want to be the talk of the office come daybreak.

“I’ll do my best,” Steven replies, dropping down to his elbows and unexpectedly nipping at Andrew’s bottom lip. “But you should kiss me more, just to be safe.”

“I can do that,” Andrew answers, sliding his fingers tightly into Steven’s hair and leaning up so that he can do just that. 

They barely break away from each other for the next several minutes; even when Andrew’s lungs ache, he twists away just long enough to take a single, deep breath before he dives back in. He lets his hands wander freely, over the shifting muscles of Steven’s back and the dip of his spine, along the line of his shoulders and down his long, lean arms. He wants so badly to drag his mouth along the length of his throat and the curve of his jaw until Steven is a panting, marked-up mess, but since that would kind of defeat the purpose of trying to be quiet, he settles for kissing his mouth over and over again, settles for nipping at his bottom lip and swallowing down every soft moan and whimper and shaky curse that Steven gives him.

It’s an easy thing to settle for, if he’s being honest.

It’s not long before Steven starts rocking his hips down against Andrew’s, absently and without rhythm at first, but then too hard and desperate to be anything but deliberate. It’s simultaneously too much friction and not enough, and the next time Andrew’s lungs ache desperately for breath, he drops his head back against the sleeping bag and reaches down to shove at the waist of Steven’s sweatpants.

“Can you take these off for me?” he asks, smearing the words along the line of Steven’s cheek. Steven nods fervently and sits up in a blur of movement, shifts down towards the flap so that he has enough room to kick his pants off. Andrew immediately misses him, misses the skin to skin contact and the feeling of them moving and rocking against each other. 

Thankfully, he’s only left longing for a few moments before Steven scrambles back between his legs and, to Andrew’s surprise, both his sweatpants and his boxers have disappeared, leaving them with only a single layer of clothing between them.

“Is this okay?” Steven asks, breath warm against the corner of Andrew’s mouth. Andrew nods and can’t help but take a moment to trail his fingers along the inside of Steven’s leg, up to the crease where his hip and thigh meet. Steven shudders from head to toe in return and drops his forehead heavily against Andrew’s.

“More than okay,” Andrew belatedly answers, leaning up for another kiss while he struggles to get out of his own boxers without moving away. Eventually, he manages to kick them towards the end of the tent, and this time, when Steven rocks down against him, there’s just the hot drag of fever-warm skin against skin. More heat floods through Andrew’s stomach, and his chest tightens as he digs his fingers into Steven’s shoulders. “ _Fuck_.”

“Gotta be quiet,” Steven responds shakily, with just a hint of tease in his voice. Andrew nips at the jut of his jaw for that comment before they fall back into kissing again.

Eventually, the friction and drag starts to become a bit much, a bit too close to pain instead of pleasure. Andrew has lube in his bag, but finding it would mean that he’d have to break away from Steven for longer than a few seconds and that, frankly, sounds like a horrible idea. So, instead, the next time Steven pulls away and buries his face into the crook of Andrew’s neck to pant hotly against his skin, Andrew drags the flat of his tongue against his own palm and slides his hand between them. As soon as he wraps it around the both of them, Steven’s gasps for breath are interrupted by a _sob_ , and his fingers scrabble against the slippery fabric of the sleeping bag on either side of Andrew’s neck.

“Please don’t stop,” he gasps, hips rolling up into Andrew’s loose grip. “ _Please_ , Andrew.”

“I won’t,” Andrew promises as he curls his free hand tightly around the back of Steven’s neck. “I’ve got you.”

Remaining quiet becomes increasingly more difficult with each additional second that passes. By the time he comes, Andrew’s control over his own volume is officially shot, and he has to sink his teeth down into the curve of Steven’s shoulder in order to keep himself from groaning Steven’s name loud enough for anyone in the nearby vicinity to hear. 

The bite, however, is also what tips Steven over the edge, and his loud, wordless cry isn’t muffled at _all_.

Still, Andrew thinks that, given the circumstances, they did a surprisingly good job at not being totally obvious.

Once they’ve both come down a bit, Steven rolls gracelessly onto his back, chest still heaving, and reaches out to tangle their clean hands together. Panting heavily, Andrew brings their intertwined fingers to his mouth and presses a kiss to the back of Steven’s hand before he lowers them again, so they’re resting just above his heart. With his free hand, he fumbles around until he finds his sweater and uses it to clean the both of them off. It doesn’t exactly do a great job – he still feels sticky, and there’s sweat drying on what seems like every inch of him - but he doesn’t feel like walking back across the grounds to shower, especially since most of the stalls are likely still occupied with people. Technically, the lake is also an option, but he doesn’t think he has the energy to make it that far.

“I love you,” Steven murmurs, sounding like he’s going to slip into sleep at any moment. 

“Love you too,” Andrew says, sliding his fingers out of Steven’s so that he can roll onto his side. After pressing a kiss to the hard line of Steven’s collarbone, he drops his head down to Steven’s chest and slings an arm heavily over his waist. “Do you wanna wake up early tomorrow and go swimming before we go back? Get cleaned up a bit?”

“That sounds great.” He buries his face into Andrew’s hair, and utter contentment floods through Andrew, slow and sweet as syrup. “Don’t let me fall asleep. I wanna check my emails.”

“Okay,” Andrew mumbles, not bothering to open his own eyes, which slipped closed the instant that he dropped his head to Steven’s chest. “I won’t.”

(He does.

Even when he wakes up at dawn with his arm numb, with the sleeping bag stuck to his stomach and his skin tacky with sweat, one glance at Steven, whose face is still soft and slack with sleep, is enough to make him decide that he regrets nothing.)

**Author's Note:**

> as always, I can be found on [tumblr.](http://banshee-cheekbones.tumblr.com/) :)


End file.
